Green Liberty
by Larkangeline
Summary: Muarim comes from a world where he is told how to act and how to feel. Lethe is from a world where she has always been free. Can Lethe share her world with Muarim? Can Muarim teach Lethe about the pain and shame he and his people had endured?
1. Chapter 1

This was Gallia.

These vast expanses of forest, these clean, streaming rivers, the air so free of the stench of venomous iron...

And he was free. Free to revel in in any way that he pleased. Here nobody cast him odd glances...nobody hurtled insults or stones...and nobody could control him.

With this liberty, though, came a strange feeling. Without orders to follow, he was really unsure of what he wanted from this life. Surely, freedom...but beyond that, he had not the capacity to decide.

He heard the whistles of insects and night birds out the giant open window of his room. Laying on the bed suspended on a wide tree branch, he peered outside, letting the breeze smooth over his face.

Gallian homes and buildings were so much different from those he had suffered in in Begnion. Here, homes were built right alongside nature rather than destroying nature to make them. The shelter he was dwelling in currently was made of craggy, ivy-coated stone walls surrounding a great tree with sprawling branches. Lightweight canopies were flung over the top, but they were adjustable, and usually only spread in the event of rain. Tonight, he could lay out on his bed and number the stars which shimmered gaily above him in a black night sky.

This was the way laguz were supposed to live. It was like paradise.

As he grew drowsy, lulled by the songs of the dancing willow branches outside, he recalled the events that brought him here.

Serving under Ike in the Crimean Liberation army, he had become acquainted with a number of fellow laguz. They had come from worlds apart. And yet, fighting together, they had learned much. Once victory had been attained, he had been planning on returning to Begnion. It was, after all, the only home he had known. He would have too, if not for an invitation from a rather forceful friend.

He smiled slightly. Lethe. She was unlike any laguz he had ever met before. She was so fiery, so independent, and so often ill-mannered. She was the complete opposite of the laguz population that inhabited Begnion. He could never see her bowing under anyone.

But if she had known his life, who knows? Mighty Lethe could have turned out to be a whipped kitten.

He frowned at this thought, and drifted off to sleep under a celestial blanket.

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When Muarim awoke, the sun was already high in the sky. To be fair, the sun did rise quickly here. However, it wasn't the first thing that caught his attention. A face with round lavender eyes and a smug expression was staring down at him. A petite girl with ginger hair was reclined on a bough above his head, tail twitching. Her ear were relaxed, picking up sounds in different directions. He let out a gasp.

"Lethe!"

She had a condescending half-grin on her face. "Well, it's about time you woke up."

He sat up quickly. "Why are you here?" He was still in the process of waking up.

"I told you that I was going to give you a tour of the palace grounds at midmorn sharp. When you didn't meet me, I decided to meet you instead. And unlike you, I am punctual." She casually observed her claws.

"I apologize. I had no idea I would sleep so late."

Lethe laughed in her usual self-assertive way. "You're apologizing? My friend, you are free. You can kick me out of here if you want to."

Muarim adjusted his white bandanna, as it had shifted over the night.

"I'm apologizing because it is rude to be late when plans are made."

"Whatever you say." She gracefully leaped down onto the ground. "We can spend the day talking here, or you can see the glory of Gallia. Whichever you choose." She minced out, tail behind her.

Muarim sighed and followed her out into the sun.

"So, are the quarters I gave you adequate? They're pretty small." She walked at such a brisk pace that Muarim had to adjust his accordingly.

"They're very nice, and plenty large. Larger than anywhere I've been allowed to live, really."

"Well, if you need an expansion, just say so. Space isn't really a premium here," Lethe commented, gesturing at the endless woods that surrounded the path in every direction. "I was going to get you a place closer to the city, but I think out in the open is better for you, personally."

"It's definitely different than anywhere I've been."

Lethe raised her eyebrow. "You don't like it?"

Muarim shook his head. "No, you misinterpret me. It's...wonderful. I've never felt so free or connected to my surroundings before. That's probably why I slept so long."

"I'm pleased to hear that. As much as I've come to accept the beorc, I'm still not at all fond of their habitats. They're cold, dead and full of metal. But I suppose that's how they live. Their little beorc bodies probably wouldn't be happy sleeping in trees, either."

"It's not so bad if you're used to it. Beorc living, I mean."

Lethe sniffed. "You've only been here a day. You have yet to know the full treasures of Gallia. Compared to it, beorc prizes are rubbish."

"I didn't say that I liked it. I was accustomed to it."

"And that is a sad thing," she said in a smooth, somber voice.

They were both quiet for a while, until Lethe let out a cry to let him know that had arrived to the capital. However, she didn't need to tell him anything. The towering castle that rested in the midst of beds of greenery loomed high above the horizon.

"You will now see what a true city is like."


	2. Chapter 2

The only thing that the cities in Begnion and Gallia had in common were size. Both were of very great size, engulfing miles upon miles of land. This, however, was where the similarities ended.

Muarim took a look around, and the look must have been rather incredulous, because Lethe snickered. Everywhere, giant trees loomed, their branches laced with shops and homes. The dirt paths that served as streets were lined with vendors and craftsmen. Racks of freshly cut meat hung in strips, blood dripping from their red veneers. Other shops were open with their goods on sale: potters, florists and even those who sold strange beorc trinkets. There were those that sold clothing, woodcarvers, booksellers, storytellers, soothsayers , and all sorts of folk. And every single one that he could see was a laguz. It was dizzying. He had never seen so many in one place. And they all went among their own business as beorc did in Begnion.

"I'm hungry. We should get something to eat before we go to the palace," Lethe decided.

She wove through the crowds in the street until she came to a giant yellow tent. Whole animals hung from racks near the roof. Stumps were arranged around like chairs and tables to allow one to eat. There was a smoking oven of some sort in the corner behind the tree-made counter. A rather portly tiger laguz with greying whiskers sat next to it, eyes closed in either sleep or concentration. Lethe ordered two 'regulars'. Muarim was unsure of what to think of this.

"Go ahead and sit down, it'll probably take him a while to cut it," Lethe commanded.

Muarim found a stump and sat. He continued to absorb his surrounding with fascination. The city was so sophisticated, yet the buildings were made of such primitive materials. There was no fancy brickwork or stone, but the organic twists and shoots of the trees and vines that made everything up shone like craftsmanship themselves. There was no need for decoration, because bright blooms of all kinds grew on every surface like brilliant flames of color.

A loud slap on the table stump startled him. In front of him was a giant, bloody piece of meat. It was marbled over with clots and bits of fat, and reddened juice dripped off of it onto the wood. It was of indeterminable origin. Muarim watched with grim fascination as Lethe sank her teeth into the red, fleshy meat. Juice dribbled down her claws, and she ate with ferocity. He took his strip of meat daintily in one of his hands, observing it. Lethe looked up at him, still chewing.

"What, aren't you hungry? This is the best stuff. I've been dying to get fresh food ever since I started eating with the beorc. They have the urge to char every drop of blood out of a good kill."

Uneasily, he took a bite out of the meat. It was tougher than he had expected. Watching Lethe tear through it, he expected it to be as soft as peach flesh. The blood dribbled through his mouth. The taste was very different than that of cooked meat...and by different...

Muarim started to feel a bit queasy. He set the meat down and wiped his hands.

"What? Is that all you're eating? You're a tiger! You'll waste away if that's all you'll have..."

She then took note of his pale visage and slumping posture. She sniffed. "Don't tell me you've never eaten raw meat before."

He just stared at her.

She exhibited a look of disgust. "Are you serious? I was making a joke!"

"I do prefer my meat at least a little cooked."

"But that ruins the flavor!" Lethe looked very indignant.

"I'm sorry. I've been raised on cooked food my entire life. I'm not used to this texture and flavor. It's a little too much for me to stomach."

Lethe frowned. "Oh, very well. I'll have him roast it up for you."

"Thank you, Lethe." A hint of a smile crossed Muarim's face.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get your meat burned for you. No need to thank me."

Once it was cooked, Muarim found the meat to be very tender. Lethe hadn't lied about the quality.

"Well now, if you're done filling your stomach we can move on to more important things." Her intonation made it seem as if Muarim was the one who had complained of being hungry. This was not an uncommon phenomenon in the way that Lethe spoke.

The palace itself was even more amazing than the city around it. The building was square and had a very wide base. The levels of it were terraced, with numerous windows on each one. Wild brush grew around it, carpeting the rustic entrance with numerous wildflower blossoms. The building appeared as natural as the flora growing around it, as if it had been carved from the ground, though it was obviously made from cut stone.

"This," explained Lethe, "is where I work. I serve as one of the king's highest. As you know, I'm a magnificent soldier, but I'm also train new soldiers here."

"I'm sure you love that job."

"Of course I do! That goes without saying. Anything that allows me to serve the king and use these claws at the same time...a laguz couldn't as for more."

As they walked in through the giant open hall, soldiers posted on both sides greeted them.

"Commander Lethe, hero of the war! Welcome back. We rejoice to see you home safe."

"You should really put more faith in me. I wasn't going to come home dead now, was I?" A catty grin crossed her face.

"Of course not! We trust you, as our venerable king does!"

"That's enough sweet talk. I have things to do." She strode past them into the vastness that awaited. Muarim followed, taking in the sites of the grand building. Through a maze of corridors, they came to a wide open courtyard where a large number of young laguz were lined in rows, performing exercises. The order of this was quickly interrupted. The excited young students ran towards her.

"Commander Lethe! You've come back!"

"Commander, it's great to see you again!"

"Commander, you have to teach us all that you've learned! We need to know!"

When Muarim entered the field, many pairs of eyes turned to him. His tall, imposing stature tended to dominate many areas, even wide open courtyards. He heard whispers.

"I bet this guy fought in the war too."

"Wow, look at his arms. I bet he can tear beorc limb from limb if he wants to."

"He probably did."

"Soldiers, this is Muarim. He fought along side my troop during our War of Crimean Liberation. I brought him here to show him what we do here. Now let's see some action! If you went soft while I was away I will toss you out like prey and turn you into meat!" Her voice surged into a scream. The young beasts quickly went to work breaking into pairs and demonstrating their combat prowess. Lethe watched them all with a very observant eye. After this had carried on for a long enough while, she cried "Peace!".

All the young warriors stopped immediately and faced her.

"You haven't gotten terrible, but you haven't improved much either. You better whip it into shape." She rested a claw on her chin. "For now though, I will let you go early. Just for today. You're going to be working it tomorrow. Hit your bunks."

They all stood rigid and strode double file into an adjacent door of the courtyard.

After they had left, Lethe gave a proud grin. "They're all much improved from where they were before this. You have to keep them feeling inferior though, for them to feel the motivation to improve. It's the only thing that will keep them consistently fighting."

Muarim rested a hand on his chin. "I'm impressed. I had no idea that you were such a profound leader in your army."

"In Gallia, the strong make the strong. It's my job to keep our country safe. I'm going to do anything in my ability to see that happen."

"Is that your meaning in life?"

He caught Lethe fairly off-guard with his question. She scanned his face. "What kind of question is that?"

"I mean...is serving your country the prime factor in your life? What you live for?"

"Well...yes. But it isn't that simple. I live for myself, too. I have more than one motivation in everything I do. Most laguz do."

"I see."

"Why do you look so unhappy?" Lethe questioned. "You're always so quiet and serious. Try living a little. It will do you a lot of good."

"That's what I came here for. You said..."

"Well then do it! Grrr...I can't do it for you." Lethe looked very frustrated, her tail twitching in an irate manner.

"It's just going to take me a while to adjust to all these new changes. You had troubles living with the beorc, did you not?"

"Well, of course. The way they live is completely different than we do in Gallia."

"Like it or not, I come from that world, though I am truly a laguz. I was treated as a sub-human...but I still had to live the same way any beorc did there. I cannot suddenly revert to the ways laguz are supposed to live."

"Grr...I suppose. I'm sorry, then. I'll try to keep that in mind."

The rest of the day was filled with tours of the palace and revered meetings with many high laguz of Gallia. By the time it had all ended, Muarim was exhausted. As sunset drew, Lethe walked him to the path towards his house.

"Mmm, yes. I know where I am now. I can follow the path myself. Thank you for everything, Lethe."

"Yes, well...I would feel better if I made sure you got there."

Muarim let out a chuckle. "You treat me like a kitten! I could smell my way back even if I could not see. What do you think is going to threaten a tiger like me?"

Lethe snarled. "I was...being polite! Don't talk to me like that!"

"I'm sorry. It seemed amusing to me."

She let out a low rumble. She was pleased, though, to see a true smile across his face. The green slashes on his face accented his smile a lot more than his frown.

When they had arrived at his house, they said their farewells. Muarim climbed into his bed and fell soundly asleep, exhausted from the sights and sounds of the day. Lethe, however, leaped silently into a tree outside and watched him through the wide open window in the wall in front of his bed. She liked to observe things. Muarim was definitely a thing, and she wanted to observe him.

Her glittering lilac eyes took note of the obvious and the detailed. Muarim was large. Even in her years of serving Gallia's military, she had never seen a tiger on so grand a scale. Not only was he of a great height, but every part of his body seemed to ripple with muscle. His arms were especially brawny, and she knew they were as mighty as they looked. She had seen him lift copious amounts of weight with less than a shrug. On the battlefield, she had seen him crush opponents with great, heavy swings of his paw.

Unlike many of the rather brutish giants she had known and served with, Muarim had...an aesthetically appealing face. He was actually quite handsome, she conceded. She noticed the curve of his stripes on his face. They were bold. They were strong. They shouted that he was a great tiger laguz.

His beautiful stripes cradled a frown. It seemed that his lips were always pressed downwards, like he bore the world in his arms. Not that it would be a hard task for him, she thought to herself, amused. She was still confused by his apparent self-hatred. He was such a fine, strong specimen of laguz. How could he be so ashamed and so afraid of who he was? He was no beorc. He was no weakling. And yet he treated himself so. It was a conundrum to her. Almost any male laguz would be jealous of him. How could he feel inferior to anyone?

With a discreet swish of her long, ginger tail, she fled into the night with no more noise than a light breeze through grass.  



	3. Chapter 3

The hisses of cicadas and twerps of songbirds carried softly through the morning air. Muarim had already been in Gallia for a little over a week, and his sleep cycle was adjusting to wake up earlier than he had. This particular morning he was collecting dried grasses to weave mats for the floor of his home. He could go and buy some, of course, but he was a practical laguz. He wouldn't bother spending money on something he could easily do himself.

As he combed through the thick brush searching for good lengths of grass, he heard a rustle. His ears perked to the sound, and he stood still. He took note of the scents in the air. He smelled a faint but distinct scent of cat.

"Lethe?"

A bolt of orange sprang out of the foliage and popped out in front of him. "I forget that you can smell and hear as well I can."

Muarim gathered the brush in his arms. "I need to. I don't know what you're planning to pull on me."

"Ha!" Lethe spat. "But it is true. I'm very cunning. I could be planning your demise by my claws right now." She looked at the dried grasses in Muarim's powerful arms, her eyes narrowed. "I hope you don't eat those."

Muarim was perplexed until he understood what she was talking about. "Oh, this. I'm gathering these to weave mats for my house."

"Why?" She asked in a domineering tone.

"The floor is dusty. It flies everywhere when I land there. I'm not very partial to dust."

"Well, it's stupid to waste time making them, if you need them so much. You can buy them in the marketplace."

"I don't want to spend money on something I can make myself. Besides that, I trust my own craftsmanship over that of a random merchant."

"Who cares? They're just mats!" Lethe looked incredulous.

Muarim looked her in the eye. "Would you hire a mercenary team to fight your battles for you?"

"Of course not."

"Well, same principle."

"That's not the same at all! Mats and battles are very different things."

"Mmm. That is so, but I still prefer to make my own." He sat beneath the shade of a creeping oak tree and began to weave. Lethe ascended the tree and rested on a branch above, arms hanging down, her tail end twitching. She watched carefully as Muarim deftly moved his fingers to-and-fro between the dry blades. He worked with such speed and precision that she was alarmed.

"How do you do that?"

"I've had a lot of practice," he answered dryly.

Lethe's observation lasted for half an hour before she became impatient.

"I'm bored."

"Mmm."

She dangled a hand in his face. "Quit wasting your time. There's a lot left I can show you in Gallia."

"That's ok, Lethe. I'm fine working the rest of the day."

Lethe became irritated. "You just arrive here and you spend the whole day playing with grass? What are you, a tiger or a cow?"

"You have no obligation to keep tabs on me, you know."

It was merely a matter of semantics, but it was the wrong thing to say. Lethe boiled.

"I spend my days trying to bring you into Gallian society, and you have the gall to tell me I'm unneeded!" She ranted with intensity, her claws digging deeply into the bark of the branch. "Ungrateful!" She vaulted from the tree and began to speed away, turning into her streamlined feline form.

"Lethe!" Muarim set down his weaving and bounded after her, his body giving way into the great gracefulness of a musclebound tiger, his coat as green as any emerald.

His long, powerful legs covered great distance, but Lethe's cat body was agile and quick. She easily dodged any obstacles in her way. No matter how many times he called her, she ignored him and continued to run. Muarim was frustrated. Why did she have to be so headstrong and irritable?

Suddenly, Lethe heard the sound of a deafening roar. Surprised, she stopped dead in her tracks. When she turned her head, she saw Muarim's giant, stately figure. Bold, bright stripes adorned his fur like a carefully painted bead. His mighty paws gripped the ground, and his tail flickered in agitation. Then, as if nothing had happened, he reverted form.

Lethe followed suit. Her boil of rage had been broken, and it started to simmer down.

Muarim cleared his throat. "Lethe. I'm sorry if what I said was offensive. I didn't mean that I don't appreciate what you're doing for me. You have helped me a lot, and I do appreciate it. I just wondered if maybe I was being a burden on you."

Lethe said nothing, a scowl upon her creamy face, arms folded.

"If you're still interested in showing me, I would like to see something new."

"Grr...fine. I'll show you the outer limits of the forest. But you better be ready to climb. There's a lot of climbing involved."

Muarim smiled. "I have no objections. I like a good climb."

His smile caught Lethe off guard. She felt a very queer feeling, as if she were suddenly very nervous. She shook her head, and it left.

"It's this way. You better keep up."

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Lethe didn't lie. There was a lot of climbing. And it was difficult work. Compared to Muarim, Lethe was tiny. She could slide between openings in branches he couldn't. Her skill and speed astounded him. She practically danced branch to bough, her tail and bells flitting behind. He had to push himself to keep up.

They were soon high in the canopies of the great trees. It was here that Lethe stopped and perched in the crook of the plant.

"This is the best place to catch tasty things. The fattest and biggest squirrels live here because they have nobody to disturb them."

She stayed perfectly still for a moment, her eyes keenly fixed on a point Muarim couldn't determine. Then, with a strike that rivaled the speed of a swordmaster, Lethe's claws shot out and grasped a large brown squirrel. With a quick flick of the wrist, it was dead, neck cracked in two. She tied her prize to her belt.

"This will make a good snack later," she chortled. "There's plenty to be found here. Let's split up and see what we can catch."

"I'll give it a try. I'm not as nimble as you are, though, so no guarantees." Muarim steadied himself on the branch and climbed to another tree. He sat there, patiently, scanning limbs for any sign of movement. Lethe bounded off to other trees farther away.

A few times he came close to claiming the life of the little furry creatures, but it seemed his hands were more suited for crushing than catching. Finally, he managed to get one of the rodents in his grips. It was a small thing, but still worth keeping. He was getting very absorbed in the game when he heard a yowl.

Alarmed, he scrambled to where to sound was uttered. Lethe was crumpled over in the crook of a tree, clutching her right paw. Blood was dripping down the sides of her leather gauntlet, and she hissed with pain. A large steel hook was looped through her hand. Shaking, she tried to pull the enclosed metal from her flesh.

"Don't do that! You'll hurt yourself!" Muarim grabbed her slender, bloodied arm in his massive hand.

Lethe hissed in pain. "Let go of me!" Her left hand struck out, claws raking into his cheek. Three thin red lines grew where her claws had touched him. Muarim didn't flinch. He grabbed her other arm, unyielding to her scrabbling.

"Lethe, you have to calm down. I can't help you if you keep trying to hit me."

With a growl, she let down her struggle, still trembling with energy. His still, steady hand held her arm aloft. A claw on his other hand sliced through the leather glove, rending it in two pieces. With deft fingers, he bent the barb off of the hook, casting it away. Gently, he loosened the metal from her flesh, slipping it out the way it came in. He unraveled a strip of black cloth from around his arm, wiping the blood from her skin. He then wrapped the wound tightly, tying the makeshift bandage in place. He let her arm free from his grasp, and Lethe drew it near to her, examining and cradling the pained appendage.

"If you would have just ripped the hook out, you could have caused a lot of damage to your hand, muscles and all. It was pretty deeply set. Where did the hook come from? I've never seen one so sharp."

"Wretched trappers." Lethe grumbled. "Laguz too lazy to catch their own meat, resorting to beorc methods." Her eyes met Muarim's. Blood was rolling down his cheek from the wild scratch she had given him.

"You're bleeding."

Muarim instinctively moved his hand to his wound, then noticed the dark liquid that had rubbed off. "So I am."

Lethe leaned towards him on her good hand, and pulled a cloth from her scabbard where her dagger was wrapped. She touched it to his face, beneath his glowing amber eye. "It's my fault. I...shouldn't have lashed out like that." Her voice became soft.

"Don't worry about it. It's barely a scratch."

Neither of them had noticed how close they were, sitting side by side in the craggy brown tree. Lethe blotted the last of the blood from his face.

He smiled.

And he noticed that she was smiling back. And it wasn't a smile of sarcasm, or grin of malicious intent, but a content, peaceful smile. It was almost as if Lethe had been inverted. She looked so happy...

Abruptly, the moment ended. Their eyes shied away from each other, as if it had been chance that their gazes had met before.

"It's getting late. We should probably go back." Lethe's tone of voice was terribly flat, and almost dreary.

Muarim nodded in agreement. "Your hand, is it..."

"It will be fine. It pains me, but not more than a laguz can bear."

By the time they returned to the path where they usually met, the moon had begun to shine its milky rays on the cool of the forest. They said their goodbyes, and Lethe turned to the way she needed to travel to go to her own resting place. She was walking when she heard Muarim.

"Lethe?"

She turned. "Yes?"

"If you aren't busy tomorrow...I would appreciate your help in finding me some things in the marketplace."

The tease of a smile emerged on her lips. "No, I'm not busy. Let's meet here midmorn. Don't sleep in, or else."

"Good night, then."

"Good night."

When Muarim returned to his dwelling, his chest was pounding, recalling the dizzying line of events that had occurred during the day.

Lethe.

That fiery spritz of a cat, all flame and bold ambition. Stormy and strong, irate and irritable, her smooth, slender figure clad in greens and gold. Her whip of a tail cracking the air. The slide of her claws against the earth. And her savage violet eyes...

He realized how fond he was of this Lethe. And yet, he had seen another Lethe tonight, and she teased his curiosity without mercy. Was it possible for fire and flame and ember to be gentle? Or was it merely a creation of his mind? He himself was confused at the boldness which had bade him to see her again the next day. His mind still a maelstrom of confusion, he finally drifted into a deep cadence of slumber. 


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks are in order to everyone for the positive reviews. I appreciate them! A compliment always compels me to continue my work. I hope you enjoy the upcoming chapters, too. 

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The following day was as cloudy as the previous day had been sunny. Smoky grey clouds floated overhead, the air saturated with humidity. Faint peals of thunder were heard from far away. It looked as if the weather would eventually be stormy.

Muarim browsed a stand covered with wood carvings of all kinds. Whoever had done the carving was exceptionally talented. He made a purchase, and the merchant wrapped it in cloth and tied it with a string. He went over to where Lethe was across the street. She was at a cloth and leathershop stall, examining gauntlets to replace the one that was sliced apart yesterday. Her tail swiped side to side as she haggled with the shopkeep. She turned and noticed him.

"Oh, there you are. Help me pick out a glove. Do you know anything about leather?"

"Sort of. I can tell what quality it is, anyways."

"Good." She handed him two different gauntlets, a light buckskin one and a dark, boiled leather one. He looked them both over. Then he flexed both of them, feeling the seams and observing the buckles.

"The dark one has much tougher leather, so it would probably offer more overall protection. However, it's impractical compared to the buckskin. Buckskin is supple and can bend and flex much more easily than boiled leather. It's unbeatable in terms of flexibility once you break it in."

"Buckskin it is, then," she replied, turning back to the vendor.

Muarim's eyes wandered to the expensive scarves that hung over the counter. They were all made of a very fine silk with tiny stitches of embroidery on the sides. The ends were fringed with tiny silver bells. The bright colors were like a rainbow, offering shades of reds, greens, blues, and violets. Lethe finished buying her gauntlet, and they walked to the street.

"This gauntlet seems to be quality," Lethe commented. "How do you know so much about everything? Do you spend time looking this stuff up?"

"I just know how to get the best out of my money." Muarim shifted the leather bag on his back. "It isn't hard to buy when you know what you're looking for."

"I'm anticipating wearing it. My hand is still too swollen, though." She traced her bandaged hand with a claw.

"It should go away soon. I have had similar injuries. Puncture wounds like that are some of the fastest to heal."

Lethe wondered where exactly he had received a wound similar to hers, but she said nothing. Suddenly, she felt a blink of rain fall onto her nose. Then one on her arm. Then several more. Soon, it began to shower.

She hissed. "I hate rain. And it looks like it's going to come down hard. Let's find somewhere sheltered." She dashed ahead on the quickly muddying path, and Muarim followed. He thought that her pace was a bit breakneck. _She must really dislike the rain_, he thought.

Where the merchant street ended, the forest began. Another road ran perpendicular, however, and led to large neighborhoods of tree-carved huts. Along the street, resting in the forest half was a giant hollowed out treetrunk carved for sitting. They took refuge there.

The celerity of the rain began to increase, and soon angry waves of raindrops were sieging everything around them. The air became cool and wet, heat dissipating into the skies.

Across from the shelter, three little laguz were playing in the rain. The two older ones were cats, girls wearing little dresses that rapidly became covered in the splashing mud, their tiny cat tails bouncing with every step. They squealed every time the grime swished up from the puddled road. The other laguz was a round little tiger who seemed content to wave his chubby arms in the mud and try to build a house out of it. He wasn't much older than a baby, his blue eyes round and curious. Suddenly, a tall, imposing female laguz with strong arms opened the door of her hut and yelled. The older ones took tail and ran into the house, and the mother gave them a good thumping as they came in. The toddling one looked confused as she swept him into her arms and gave him a kiss, carrying him out of the rain.

Lethe watched this and snickered. "Look at those kittens. That sure brings me back. I used to be just like that, except my mother couldn't make me go in if I didn't want to."

Muarim smiled a distant smile. "I'm sure you were a very independent girl."

"Yes, I was. I've always been that way. I still cared about my family, even if I drove them crazy. It's too bad they departed so suddenly. I barely had my adult fangs in when they passed away." There was a bar of silence. "Do you ever think back about your family?"

Muarim's face looked blank, as if he were not present at the moment. "Back in Begnion...we didn't have families like they are normally."

"What do you mean?"

He was silent, staring at the ground, palms grinding into his legs.

Lethe sensed there was something about the subject that hurt him. She closed her eyes. "Don't answer me...if you don't want to."

"No. I will answer you. There need to be witnesses of what happened so it is never forgotten again. It might take me a while to speak of, though."

"We have time. The rain is still fierce, and I will not walk through it."

Muarim folded his arms tightly to his chest and closed his eyes as he began speak.

"As you know, I grew up as a slave in a wealthy beorc home in Begnion. The word wealthy is an understatement. Not only did they possess all the gold they desired, but their political power was enormous. Anything...unscrupulous that they did was easily swept under the rug with a bag of coins or a bid to a higher position.

"I was one of over a hundred slaves that secretly worked on their giant estate. Their house wasn't even the biggest. I heard reports of families that owned well over five-hundred laguz slaves.

"Labor was back-breaking. All of us were doing difficult, tiring tasks from dawn to dusk. Sometimes we would have to work well into the night. It left us very little time for socializing with each other. We did when we were not called on, in our barracks. We would talk and find what little recreation we could. Relationships of a romantic nature, however, were strictly forbidden. Those who were caught in such entanglements were beaten, or had even worse punishments."

Lethe was shell-shocked at everything he just said. "You didn't have little ones around then, did you?" she asked hopefully, her veins surging with hatred. She could not stand the idea of children forced to work such dire jobs.

Muarim has a very grim look on his face. "We had plenty. It was a result of the breeding."

"Breeding?" Lethe was infuriated. "What do you mean?"

"The cheapest way for these homes to get new slaves was to get them from the ones they already had. To these beorc with noble blood, laguz are not 'human'. They are below 'human'. In honesty, we were no better than dogs to them. They saw us as property, and not as living creatures, but things to serve them.

"Owners of a house would observe qualities of various slaves, and based on the traits they wanted, would force them...to do as they said. They would give them a room to live in for a month, and if no offspring was produced, they were beaten or passed off as sterile and given the lowest work possible.

"After this, they were not allowed to live as a family. They would often sell or trade either the mother or father to prevent one from taking root. The child would live with the mother until they were old enough to take care of themselves to some extent. They found that taking a child from their mother too early would more often than not cause it to perish.

"This was the perfect system, in their twisted minds, to get more slaves. They would be free except for what little it cost to sustain them, and unlike the wilder laguz that traders captured and sold, their whole lives would be shaped around serving. They would know nothing else, and dream of nothing else, their paws chained forever to the miserable keep."

Lethe was visibly shaking with rage and bewilderment. "Did they...did you..."

"No, praise the goddess, they never used me, though I'm sure they would have had I been there much longer. I sometimes think back to it and wonder what I would have done, having a child I'd never know and a mate I never loved. I don't know if I could ever live with that."

Lethe angrily brushed away tears that were brimming in her lavender eyes with a swipe of her forearm. "How dare they!" she hissed. "How dare they! How is it that humans have such a wicked soul to treat...living beings like rats in the streets?"

Muarim placed a great hand on her shoulder, his eyes calm and steady. "Peace, Lethe. You know that all beorc are not evil. You have seen first hand the noble and righteous ones that live among them. And now that our war is over, things are changing. With blessing, we will never be back to those times again."

She sniffed and rubbed her face again. "It is truly amazing that you have more compassion for beorc than I after living under their dirty feet for so long."

Muarim smiled gently. "I saw evil, but I knew good as well." He pulled the carving he had bought from his bag and unwrapped it. The graceful figure of a mage was carved into the deep mahogany wood, fire bursting from the sculpture's tiny hands.

"I bought this for Tormod." He handed the carving to Lethe. "Never had I known somebody so unblinded by prejudice. The measure of his spirit is amazing. He wants life between laguz and beorc everywhere to completely equal in every way, and I don't think he will ever stop working short of that goal. Though I can carry him easily with one finger, he'll always be stronger and braver than I am."

Lethe cradled the wooden magician in her hand. "I'm sure he will love this."

Muarim smiled. "I know he will. When we were living in our fortress in the desert with the other laguz, he poured over anything that I brought him, no matter how small. It meant a lot to him."

"He should come visit Gallia sometime. He would probably enjoy it."

Muarim's voice lifted to a more joyful note. "I received a letter from him a day or so ago. He's busy in Begnion with work the apostle has given him. She actually gave him a position on one of her investigative teams. He says that she seems to be less irritable now, but I hope he remembers his manners. He's very much like you, Lethe."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she questioned, a bit indignant.

"You both speak directly from your hearts. You say what you feel, no matter the feelings of the others you speak to. I admire that. I could never speak that way."

Lethe felt a slight blush creep over her cheeks. She nervously scratched her head, trying to look nonplussed by his compliment. "It's not always a good thing. Sometimes...I'm too hasty."

"That's true. I have proof of that." He ran his hand over the barely visible scratch she had given him the day before, laughing.

Lethe smiled, her tail curling. Seeing him open up from his shell and relax made her feel good.

He deserved to be happy after what he had seen.

Through the smile he wore now, she could still see the devastation that lay behind. Sorrow. Mistrust. Suffering. Now that he had opened up, though, the burden seemed a bit lighter.

She would do everything in her power to end that burden, she vowed, as she looked into his saffron eyes.

"The rain's cleared up," Muarim stated, rising from the shelter. "I still need to buy thread."

"I know where you can get that at a good price. Follow me." 


	5. Chapter 5

The forest seemed to literally breathe, humidity pouring in from every branch. The muggy weather made almost every activity unbearable, be it walking, hard labor, or simply laying down. Lethe had formulated an activity to beat the hot stuffy weather, however: fishing.

Getting to the right place proved to be difficult. They had to march through miles of bug infested, sticky, overgrown foliage. It was so hot and the air so terribly thick that Muarim had a difficult time ambling through the greens. Lethe, too, seemed slowed down by the overly tropical climate, though she was adamantly enthusiastic about their destination.

Muarim wiped his forehead with his arm. "How much farther is the river? I'm about to faint."

"What, tired? We barely went anywhere," she gasped, breathless. "Anyways, it's right ahead. Can't you smell the water?"

"I can barely smell anything. I'll take your word for it."

A mile later the thick trees cleared, and indeed, there was a wide, lazily flowing river nestled in the decline in the ground. Lethe perked up immediately, her tail moving with sudden fervor.

"I haven't been fishing in a long while. This is the perfect time, though. The river isn't quite as deep, and the fish should be abundant with all these bugs to eat." She waded into the water until it crested against her knees, her eyes eagerly scanning the river for signs of life.

"I thought you didn't like water."

"I don't like it all over me. I don't mind it when I'm fishing. Besides that, it's hard to be bothered by water on a hot day like this." She stood perfectly still, all attention fixated on watching the water. She would wait for the curious fish to swim near her, and with her lightning quick paw, swipe the poor water creature from its home. It was only a few minutes before a small, brown fish made its way unfortunately close to the hunter. In a moment it was over, and Lethe held a squirming prize in her claws.

"Ha! That didn't take long. I told you I was a great fisher." Lethe looked around, lilac eyes searching for Muarim. She didn't spot him anywhere, either along the bank or the river. Her ears flattened quizzically. She wasn't allowed to think for long though, because a sudden force knocked her from her feet and dragged her into the river.

As she exploded up from the water, seething and surprised, she saw a flash of green and instantly knew who the culprit was.

"Grrr...I'm going to kill you! You made me drop my fish!"

A grinning Muarim popped up from the water. "Good luck catching me. You might be fast in the trees, but nobody beats a tiger at swimming."

"We'll see about that, you dolt," she shot back.

He just laughed and dove under the water.

Lethe paddled with all her might, but no matter how fast she went, Muarim was yards ahead. Finally he stopped, bobbing above the water.

"Have you had enough?"

"You're just too fast for me." She crept closer to him.

"It looks like I've bested you at something."

"Yes..." She crept increasingly closer, until she was a few feet away...

With a glancing blow of her claw to the surface of the water, a huge wave of the river hit him squarely in the face. She laughed with the glee usually reserved for a youngster pulling a prank, diving into the water the opposite way.

"Well, that was cheap."

"Who ever said I played fair?" she taunted back, shaking water out of her hair with a flick of her hand.

"I'll make you play fair," he growled back as he sprang towards her, grabbing her around the waist, holding her arms behind her.

"Hey, let go of me!" she demanded in mock anger.

"I'm not letting go until you promise to play fair."

"Never!" she cried nobly. "I don't surrender to anybody."

"I guess I'll just have to hold you hostage until you crack."

She squirmed with all her might, but he held her tightly in his arms. She knew there was no way she could escape.

"Okay," she said, panting. "I surrender. I surrender. I'll play fair."

He loosened his arms, and she broke free. He made his way towards the riverbank, standing victoriously, a smile on his lips. "For once, the mighty Lethe has to bend to the will of another."

A sudden bolt of orange flew through the air and hit him smack in the chest, throwing him against the slant of the riverbank. Her slender arms pinned his chest down, limber legs straddling him, a flame of a tail flickering behind. A smug grin was on her face.

"You really shouldn't be so trusting. It could kill you."

The lightheartedness of the moment quickly faded as they realized how close they were. Lethe became suddenly aware of the strong, muscled chest her hands were pressing against. One of Muarim's hands rested on her waist, a result of the surprise of her sporadic attack. He felt the pressure of her strong legs of both sides of his body. Unlike their last close encounter, they stayed still for a moment, observing each other. They both felt slight blushes crossing their faces. Lethe soon slithered off of him, her cheek grazing his intentionally.

They both stood, looking at the quiet river.

Muarim rubbed his neck. "I suppose it's time to get to business. It'll take quite a few fish to make a meal."

Lethe nodded as she stood in the water. She tried to focus on the fishing, but her thoughts kept fleeing to other matters.

"You know, you've really loosened up."

Muarim's eyebrow rose. "Do you think so?"

"Yeah. You were so strictly serious. While we were fighting in Crimea you barely said two words to anybody. And you were always so distraught looking. But my instincts were right. Underneath all that stoicism is a lot more."

"I guess I'm more like this because I feel safe. I don't have to constantly fear getting hurt. I can spend my time just enjoying life."

Lethe reflected on what he said. Muarim was afraid of getting hurt? This giant of a tiger who could lift boulders with ease, who could kill an enemy with a single blow was afraid of being hurt by someone? It made very little sense. And yet, she knew there was a very real reason behind whatever it was that he feared.

They passed the hours of the afternoon making catches and talking about whatever topic floated in. By the end of the day, they had caught enough fish to fill themselves and then some. At dusk, they parted ways.

As Lethe drew into the home where she lived, hundreds of thoughts pulsed through her mind. Her house was very close to the palace, and in fact was a property of the palace itself. It was one of the well-crafted homes that higher officials and officers dwelled in. It was less primitive than most Gallian homes; it had many beorc-style trimmings, with a wooden door and small metal fixtures, but Lethe didn't mind because it was laguz enough inside for her, trimmed with exotic wood and rustic amenities.

As she recalled all the events of the day, her mind kept flashing back to when they were close to each other. She had felt the warmth and the soul of another creature beneath her hands, and this time it wasn't as prey. The feelings were confusing. She longed to return to the moment and feel them again. Though they were unfamiliar, they were quite pleasant. She remembered his cool yellow eyes, his smooth breaths, the sensation of his cheek brushing against her own and shivered. As she tried to go to sleep, something that normally came with ease, she thrashed about, and finally went to her window and looked out at the snowy-white moon. She rested her arms and head on the sill.

She thought back to what he had said about fear. He feared pain. He feared being hurt. He had this fear bottled up in him, and now he was slowly letting it go. She had a strong intuition that there was something very deep bothering him, something secret...something he had never let anyone see because of his fear. She felt a sudden pang of sorrow for him. Slowly, she was starting to understand why he behaved the way he did. The cruelty that was inflicted on him was different than any experience she had ever known. She had been shocked by the wretched practices of the Begnion nobles that he had explained to her; how many more acts tormented his soul? Her heart churned.

Slowly, fitfully, sleepiness overcame her, and she slumbered, a ponderous feeling heavy upon her breast.


	6. Chapter 6

Weeks had come to pass. As quickly as summer, full of heat and storms, had danced in, she fled the stage, making way for a darker, more somber sister. The season was quickly cooling, giving in to the cheerful autumn. The lush green of the trees was turning ablaze. Already the foliage donned dresses of fire: gold and cinnamon, crimson and rust. The humidity of the air was considerably low, and it was cool, with breezes caressing the places around them.

Lethe knew that weather was a fierce and fickle mistress, striking with fury or sweetness whenever she pleased. With the onset of the fall, she decided to show Muarim what she considered to be the greatest sight in all of Gallia, the Point. If winter frosts or ice struck early, it would be impossible to get there.

The path to the Point was craggy and steep, with narrow ledges and fallen debris everywhere. They had left at late afternoon. It was close coming upon sunset as they arrived to the top. The top of the Point, in contrast to the path there, was flat and smooth with little besides slate and a few tough mountain shrubs.

Lethe walked to the edge of the top. As Muarim peered over, he was stunned. They were thousands of feet above the foot of the rock. Seas of fire seemed to wash around the stone colossus, barraging it with tiny leaves and branches.

"I didn't there was a place anywhere with a view like this."

"The best part is the sunset, which is going to start soon. The sun is getting very low in the sky."

Indeed, the blue of the sky was darkening, and clouds which bedded around the glow of the great sun changed into sleeves of light pink and rose and lavender. An astral orange crown rested around the steadily declining sun, readying for a bed under the horizon.

The air high up was more brisk than the sheltered climate of the forest. Lethe gave a small shiver. She felt something being set on her lap. She looked down and saw a small box tied with string and a bright blue paper.

"It's a thank-you gift for showing me everything."

"A gift? Really? For me?" She was flattered. She rarely received gifts, at least not on a personal level. Eagerly, she sliced through the string and paper and opened the box.

Inside the little brown box was a scarf. She reached in and brought it out. It was one of the expensive ones being sold at the store where she purchased her new gauntlet. It was a deep purple silk, softer and shinier than anything she had ever owned. The edges were embroidered with tiny stitches of silver thread, and the ends each had five brilliant silver bells sewn on, each with a low, melodic chime.

She didn't have anything to say.

"Lethe?"

She ran her hand over the rich, delicate fabric. "I...it's...pretty," she murmured.

Muarim smiled. "It will look even better on you, I guarantee."

Lethe untied her green scarf and let it fall to the ground. She pulled the new one around her neck. The fabric was so soft and slippery that she was having troubles tying it. She felt Muarim's hand on the back of her neck. He expertly took the ends of the scarf and tied it snugly, but not too tightly.

"Ah, I was right. That color is the exact color of your eyes."

Lethe touched her neck where his hand had been. She reached into the scabbard where her dagger slept and pulled it out, examining herself in the mirror bright metal. He was right. The vibrant violet scarf was the tone of her eyes. It even mimicked the shimmer of them almost perfectly.

"This scarf is wonderful. It's a lot nicer than my old one."

"I'm glad that you like it," he replied. "I thought of you when I saw it."

Her heart started to pound, though she scolded herself profusely at getting flustered. _Dammit. I'm one of the highest in Gallia's army. Nothing's supposed to phase me._ At the same time, however, another side of her was enjoying the giddy, helpless feeling which had never been invoked like this before.

Muarim's gaze had returned to the sunset. The sounds of the wind tumbling over the rocky landscape of the sky created its own aria of night music, the velvet voices caressing all which they passed. Lethe watched him. He was relaxed, the normally tense sinews of his arm resting. His face, however, told another story. The ghost of a smile still haunted his lips, but the pain that lurked behind his eyes were more tangible than ever.

She inched closer to him. The sun was very low in the sky now, with only a bit more than a sliver shining.

He didn't notice. He was entrenched in a foreign thought.

"Muarim," she said, in a voice that was so soft she scared herself. Being quiet was not her forte.

He turned his gaze to her.

She wrenched her fingers together and bit her lip. It was hard work to be a tactful speaker.

"Every time that I see you...you seem sad. Like right now. I can see that you have something hurting you."

His face expressed faux confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm very happy to be here. It's a beautiful night." His words didn't faze her; she knew that he knew what she was talking about.

She frowned. "Please...don't lie to me. Whatever it is that haunts you, you can tell me. I will not judge you." Her eyes closed as she turned back to the darkening sky.

He said nothing and didn't move from watching the skies. In a few minutes the sun had set completely and a huge globe of an orange harvest moon filled the sky, surrounded by waves of milky white stars.

An abrupt voice, low and lugubrious, pierced the silent night air.

"Her name was Marcella. We had many child slaves in the house, but Marcella was different. She had always been very weak and had a half-lame leg that plagued her badly. The master of the house knew she was born with it and she could do nothing about it, yet she was forced to work as hard as the rest of the serving girls."

"One winter Marcella got very sick, and her leg got worse. She could barely make her rounds. The slower she worked, the harder they pushed her. She would go to bed, exhausted, some nights barely breathing. She never complained. She always had a smile, even after they hit her. She loved living, even if everything about her life was miserable."

"One night, the foreman was angry. About what, I don't know, but he was known as a gambler and probably misplaced a bet. He was an evil, hideous beorc and his treatment of us was worse. Marcella's chores were not close to being finished at the end of the day. He hit her again and again, trying to make her work faster, but she was too weak and fell over, enduring the blows."

"Enraged, he took his whip from his pocket. I...I couldn't stand by and watch any longer, pretending to be oblivious. I ran over and cracked his arms with my hands. It was like snapping twigs. I remember him running away, and I stood there with his blood all over me."

" I didn't feel sorry. I refused to apologize or even give words to the dastard I crushed. What I did was unforgivable anyhow; had I begged for mercy, I would have still been punished. I was silent. They punished me."

Muarim unwrapped the white cloth at his waist and pulled off his shirt, exposing his back.

Lethe was horrified, her hand pressed against her mouth to stifle her cry of surprise. The tan, muscular back banded with vibrant forest green stripes was badly marred. Sick, angry lashes of scars covered everywhere, engulfing the flesh. Ancient canyons displayed where he had been hit. The surfaces of each wound were dark, traces of where blood had wept.

"They beat me. They beat me more badly than anyone before me. They wanted me to scream. To cry. To beg for mercy. I did not open my mouth. They kept hitting me. Normally they would stop after a few lashes to keep the offender in working shape. I was not so fortunate."

"When they finally let me go, I was almost in shock. My entire back was covered in blood, and I could barely stumble back to my quarters. The other laguz helped to clean me up, but I had lost a lot. Every breath hurt me. I coughed up blood for three days afterwards. Work was excruciating. All my energy was gone."

"And though I had survived, Marcella had not. She disappeared. And my ears bore witness to the drunken brag of the foreman." He wrung his hands. "I should have killed him. I should have snapped his neck like I snapped his arms." He redressed, tying the white cloth tightly around his waist. "I could have killed every beorc in that house easily, but I didn't. I was so close...but I didn't. I didn't because I knew Marcella wouldn't want me to. She couldn't stand the idea of death."

Muarim's eyebrows were deeply furrowed, and Lethe could see the reflections of tears in his eyes, though they never spilled. His arms were tightly crossed again, his back trembling softly.

Lethe felt a tear roll down her own cheek. She didn't vocalize anything this time, though. She had nothing to say.

Muarim felt small, slender arms wrap around him. Lethe leaned against him, still silent, her head resting against his shoulder. He returned her embrace, drawing her near. Her skin was cold from the mountain air, but as soft as velvet. He could feel the outlines of her body, muscle and flesh and bone, in his arms, against his chest.

Peace. His emotions had exhausted him. He was bare now. Unshielded. Nothing to hide. Nothing to hide. Nothing to hide.

Lethe had never been so close to anybody before this moment. It was exhilarating. She had trekked across countries, fought countless men and learned everything about Gallia, and yet...none of it seemed to live up to the feeling that echoed through her now.

The moon stood its sleepy watch over the valley, encircled by millions of stars.


End file.
